


Where You Are

by RoseByAnyOtherName17



Series: The Lion, the Wolf and the Dragon [17]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Introspection, Love, Minor Original Character(s), Pre-Slash, Sparring, Storm's End (ASoIaF), Strategy & Tactics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 19:40:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseByAnyOtherName17/pseuds/RoseByAnyOtherName17
Summary: No one told Gendry that he shouldn't be looking at Arya the way he did, not when Arya was looking at him the same way.





	Where You Are

**Author's Note:**

> Trying out a different perspective! I had fun writing this one (well, more fun than usual) and I really hope you like it! It's kind of a character study, depending on how you look at it.
> 
> title from the song by Mayday Parade

No one told Gendry that he shouldn’t look at Arya the way he did. Not Daenerys, the woman who was once a girl that knew she would never get to choose a love for herself. Not Tyrion, who knew that a match like them could never truly be possible. Not Barristan, nor Asha and Theon once they were on a ship once again with Storm’s End as the destination. And certainly not Arya, because she looked at him the same way, unabashed and unashamed and daring anyone to say anything against the two of them.

 

He was puking over the side of the ship again for a full two days, unable to keep anything down and feeling worse by the second. Arya stood next to him, rubbing his back and wiping his face off with a damp cloth when he got a brief reprieve. When the sun came up on the third day, water all around them, he finally managed to eat a biscuit without it coming back up. By the time the fifth night rolled around he was sparring with the Ironborn, learning to counterbalance against the sway of the waves moving the ship. He became friends with Caleb, one of the men that had apparently accompanied Arya on her short visit to Winterfell. “She’s an interestin’ girl, your Lady Stark,” Caleb said one night, watching her go through the exercises Syrio Forel had taught her. The awe was evident on his face, and the envy in his voice. “You’re a lucky man.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gendry answered replied, and struck at the other with his hammer to begin a fight once more.

 

But he did know. They shared a small cabin on the ship the way they’d shared the forge, Arya in the cot and Gendry on the floor, heaped with blankets that Arya insisted on throwing over him. There was barely an hour’s worth of time in the whole day that they weren’t in sight of one another, especially now that they were cooped up on a ship but before that as well. It was like travelling with the Night’s Watch had been, when they were just children with no one to trust but each other. Except now they had an army at their backs and neither one was pretending to be someone they weren’t. Arya was a Stark of Winterfell and Gendry was the perceived bastard of a dead king. And Gendry held more power than he ever had, just because Arya refused to allow it to be any different.

 

He lay awake at night, listening to her breathe and wondering if that would ever change. When the war was over, would she still be able to claim him as equal to her? Regardless of who his father was, he was still a bastard. All of the unsaid things were right; they could never be a match, not in the eyes of Westeros and all its lords. He wondered if Arya could hold out against the entirety of a kingdom.

 

“Shh,” she mumbled from the bunk, eyes closed.

 

“I wasn’t saying anything,” Gendry protested.

 

“But you’re thinking so loudly,” Arya groaned, rolling onto her stomach and opening one eye to glare at him. “Whatever it is can wait till we get to Storm’s End. Go to sleep.”

 

“As Milady commands,” he teased.

 

She promptly threw her pillow in his face.

 

“A lucky man,” Caleb repeated to him every morning when Gendry emerged from the cabin with Arya.

 

Gendry ignored him.

 

**

 

Arya had been right about the Stormlords being afraid of the Ironborn; it was only a week after the first ravens were sent out that they began to come to Storm’s End to pledge allegiance to Arya and the Mother of Dragons. Arya listened to their concerns, soothed their worries. When question arose of who would rule the Stormlands when the war was over, she said, “That depends on the victory of the second war.” Then she told them that the Night King was coming with his army, and it was only a matter of time before the Wall would be under siege. “The Long Night is coming,” she insisted when they expressed their disbelief. “Wouldn’t you rather Westeros have a stable ruler when that happens, rather than Cersei Lannister, who killed your former king and liege lord?” She sighed. “I understand that it’s a lot. One war is being fought, another is coming, and the first true winter since I was born is upon us as well.”

 

“And why is it that Daenerys Targaryen trusts a Stark to do her bidding?” Lord Penrose asked. Never mind the fact that he had already pledged his house to them both.

 

“That is a very long story,” Arya admitted, “and not one that we have time for now.”

 

Gendry watched her from his place beside her at the table. It was the first time he had seen her handle this kind of thing for real, and she was remarkably good at it. But he wasn’t oblivious to the glances he was getting from the Stormlords. One man stared outright for several minutes, mouth hanging open in what looked like shock. Gendry looked right back in defiance. When Arya finally noticed their stare-off, she inquired, “Is there a problem, My Lord?”

 

“Who is he, Lady Stark?”

 

Everyone’s attention, if it hadn’t been already, went straight to Gendry. He wanted to feel uncomfortable, but Arya only said, “He’s one of the reasons I’m alive. And you’ll answer to him, same as you answer to me or Lady Greyjoy. Understood?” Her tone barred anymore questions, but Gendry was still relieved when she called a break for the night. “We can discuss our next moves in the morning. Until then, get some sleep and get to know each other.”

 

But not all the lords retired immediately; rather, several followed Gendry and Arya outside to the training yard. Gendry walked ten paces further than she did and then turned, sword up. Despite what he told Daenerys and the others, and his preference for a hammer, Arya was beginning to insist he practice with a sword as well. “At least _try_ to keep your identity under wraps here,” she muttered to him on the way, grinning. “Did you see Lord Wylde’s face? Besides,” she added, “it’ll be much easier to convince them that you’re an ordinary bastard boy if I can beat you in a fight.”

 

“You can already beat me in a fight,” Gendry pointed out good-naturedly.

 

They faced off in the semi-darkness, Arya with Needle in her left hand and a dagger in her belt. There were a few chuckles around them, though the lords all stepped back to give them space. For a brief moment, Gendry considered letting Arya win this one, just to prove to them that she was entirely capable. But then she lunged forward without warning and he remembered – Arya didn’t need him to let her win. She would win just because she was good enough to do so, especially when he was lacking his favorite weapon and she had both of hers.

 

She drove him back mercilessly, swiping at his legs when he hesitated. He jumped the blade and swung his sword at her right side, her undefended side, but there was a clang as it glanced off the dagger that she’d whipped out of nowhere. Everything drowned out except for Arya in front of him, then behind him when she spun around, then in front of him as he followed, barely bringing his sword up to defend himself from her. The weapon was too light. He was used to the weight of the hammer. Every swing he made with the sword was just on the wrong side of too much, making him feel unwieldy and overbalanced. “Pull back,” Arya encouraged him, even as she forced him to block her stab at his shoulder. “Don’t be so exaggerated; it’s a dance, not a battlefield.”

 

“I don’t know how to dance!” Gendry said breathlessly, laughing when the flat of Needle whapped his thigh. It stung, but he finally saw an opening and lunged forward, planting his foot and knocking her wrist away with the hilt of his sword. The dagger went flying.

 

Arya was grinning now too, hair loose from its braid, sweat gleaming on her forehead in the sunset. _She’s beautiful,_ Gendry thought absently, dodging backwards as she came at him again. He turned his body sideways to match her own stance, not that it mattered. Whatever advantage he had gained was swept away with that thought, because once it entered his head it wouldn’t leave. It took only a minute more for her to get inside his defenses and pull him against her, back to chest, with Needle across his throat. “Yield,” she gasped into his ear.

 

He shivered. “Yield,” he agreed, and she let him go.

 

The yard was entirely silent now. When Gendry looked up, the lords weren’t laughing anymore, but staring at Arya in a mixture of shock and admiration. They’d likely never seen a woman fight like that before. Hell, Gendry hadn’t seen her fight like that before, in all the weeks they’d been doing this. Almost every night since he’d found her at Riverrun, and she had never come at him so ferociously. He wondered if it was because she wanted to prove to the Stormlords her capability, or if it hadn’t been any different at all for her and he was just that bad with a sword. Usually he could beat her one time out of three, but that was with the hammer.

 

“We’ll try that again tomorrow night, yeah?” Arya teased.

 

“You can’t leave off embarrassing me for one day, can you?” Gendry responded. He was smiling too though.

 

**

 

Arya may have been able to stop the questions, but the looks Gendry caught thrown his way didn’t cease.

 

“They suspect,” he whispered to Arya in the forge, the one place he was certain no one would overhear them. There was only one entrance.

 

“Let them,” she answered, watching him hammer away at a piece of metal with a little too much nervous energy. “It could work to our advantage. Besides, they have no proof.”

 

“Lord Barristan had no proof,” Gendry said wryly.

 

“Yes, and it turned out well,” Arya reminded him. “They are all aware that Robert had bastards, Gendry.”

 

“They’re also aware that they were all killed by Joffrey,” Gendry reminded _her,_ “or at least, they were supposed to be.” He stopped short suddenly, stricken. “Gods, Arya, I had brothers and sisters. I could have seen any number of them and never even known.”

 

Arya looked at him carefully. “Does that bother you?”

 

Gendry stared at the cooling metal in front of him and then tossed it aside. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Should it?”

 

Arya barked out a laugh. “I don’t think my perception of things that should be bothered about is very good.”

 

“Well…” Gendry hesitated. “When did you find out that Jon was a bastard? Y’know, only your half-brother?”

 

Arya tilted her head. “I think…I think I always knew, a little bit. Mother treated him differently, she was never kind to him the way she was to me and Sansa and Robb, and then Bran when he was born. Father explained it to me when I was…three or four? I got upset with Mother because I was playing with Jon and she snapped at him, I don’t remember what for. My father told me it wasn’t her fault, that Jon wasn’t her son, and that I shouldn’t blame her for not loving him like she loved me.” She smiled a little sadly. “I told Jon he was my favorite the next day, no matter who his mother was. Sansa didn’t like that much.”

 

“It didn’t change anything for you?” Gendry persisted.

 

“Of course not,” Arya said, a little incredulously. “Why would it? He was the same Jon as he was before. Him being a bastard never made a difference to me, just like—” She stopped abruptly. “But anyways, it’s different for me and Jon. We grew up together. As far as you knew, you never had any brothers or sisters. So…if you’re not sad, about their deaths, I think it’s okay. Why waste tears over something you never really had?”

 

Her words shouldn’t have made him feel better, but Gendry still felt lighter with them.

 

**

 

“Euron Greyjoy has taken his Ironborn to Cersei and pledged his loyalty to her,” Arya announced. “From what Lord Varys has been able to gather, they are planning to take back Casterly Rock. However, they must pass Storm’s End first, and we can’t put it past them to try and seize the castle. With the forces we have, they would be foolish to try, but…to be perfectly honest, I haven’t ever dealt with an attack from the sea before,” she confessed. “I’m not sure what to expect.”

 

“If we can lure them onto land, defense will be much easier,” Asha Greyjoy said. “ _Our_ Ironborn have been training in these past months on land, but traditionally, our strength lies on the sea.”

 

“With respect, My Lady, they could lay siege, could they not?” Lord Penrose suggested, a little uncomfortably when Asha looked at him. “Cut us off from the sea and therefore Queen Daenerys?”

 

Asha tilted her head, considering, but Theon was the one who spoke. “Euron is not fool enough to try and lay siege to only one side of a castle, especially when the other half is where the supplies come from. No, he will attack directly, or not at all.”

 

Gendry had been watching quietly until now, but Arya turned her gaze to him. “What do you think?” she asked, and all the attention fell to him.

 

He tried to hide his surprise. “I’ve never – I’m not the man to ask.” Arya’s mouth twitched in obvious (to him, at least) amusement. “I know how to make weapons, but I’ve never fought before.”

 

“That’s not true,” Arya said. “Before Harrenhal, remember?”

 

He did remember. He remembered fighting as hard as he could, and smashing a man’s head in when he came up behind Arya while she was grappling with another three times her size. “There wasn’t much strategy to that,” he reminded her. “And if we’re attacked from the sea, I don’t think what little experience I have will be of much use, unless we were to attempt to board their ships. Which is an awful idea,” he added in a rush, when Lord Penrose actually looked like he was considering it. “If we leave the castle undefended to meet them, we could stand to lose it.”

 

“We wouldn’t lose the castle if we met them on the sea, before they arrived,” Asha mused.

 

“We can’t risk that,” Arya said, shaking her head. “We have to be ready for them to come, but there’s every chance they’ll pass right by and continue to Casterly Rock. If we meet them and start the battle ourselves, we stand to lose a lot more than a castle. No, it would be better to wait, and if they come, try and draw them onto the shore and fight there.” She looked unhappy though, and a little angry, not knowing what was coming. Gendry knew that, up until now, she’d had control in every situation, every battle. This waiting and guesswork wasn’t something she liked.

 

He briefly touched her hand. “What’s more important to Cersei, family or power?”

 

_There_ it was. Gendry liked how Arya’s eyes narrowed when she was _really_ thinking, like she was now. She stared at a spot on the wall for a long moment, and finally said, “Power. Two of her children are dead, and Myrcella is still in Dorne, with no effort made to get her back. She had her uncle killed in the explosion at the Sept of Baelor with the Tyrells. There hasn’t been word of her brother Jaime since he left the Riverlands to the Freys, even after we took them back. We would know if it were him leading the siege on Highgarden.”

 

Gendry nodded. “And what will give her the most power? The Stormlands, or Casterly Rock?”

 

“The Stormlands,” Arya answered without thinking about it anymore.

 

“Then you know what she’ll do,” Gendry concluded.

 

Much later, when it was clear that everyone needed to sleep, Theon stopped Gendry at the door. “I grew up with Arya at Winterfell,” he explained. “I’ve never seen anyone talk with her like you do besides Jon Snow.”

 

Gendry smiled a little. “We travelled together for a long time as children,” he said honestly. “It’s hard not to know someone after that.”

 

“You’re not bad at the strategic side of things,” Theon told him.

 

But Gendry shook his head. “Arya’s the one who knows. I just know what to say to get her there.”

 

Arya came back, frowning. “Everything alright?”

 

Theon nodded, grasped her shoulder, and left with a quiet, “Goodnight.” Gendry grinned at her raised eyebrow, warmth filling his chest at the sight of her hair loose from its braid after the long day.

 

“Spar before bed?” he questioned.

 

“Go get your hammer,” she responded, returning his smirk with a sharp one of her own, all teeth. “I want a real challenge for a change; it’s getting old beating you without having to try.”

 

Gendry managed to knock needle from her hand twice that night, and the dagger once. The way she laughed when he pinned her back against his chest with the hammer across her front was almost better than the way she leaned into him and dropped her head back on his shoulder, just for a moment, before he let her go.

 

Almost.


End file.
